Chapter 20
She walked to the window and placed her hand on the barrier Detective Sutherland had put up. She closed her eyes and called out his name. She felt his jolt of surprise. She opened her eyes, and the connection broke. She closed her eyes, realizing she’d pulled her hand away from the window. Once again back in position, she reached out a second time. It’s Fern.
I know who you are. I wasn’t aware you could reach out and contact me.
His voice was light, amused; apparently he was okay with it all.
What can I do for you?
She took a deep breath. I know you’re a cop in physical form. I just haven’t had very much luck with cops myself. She took another deep, stuttering breath. So I was wondering if ones—on the other side—if I’d have better luck getting help from other psychic cops.
She heard his low chuckle.
Damn. She shook her head. I’m sorry. That was probably a stupid question. I was just so hoping somebody would be capable of tracking this energy on my bed. Or could help me find the person who had been in my house. Or, I don’t know, maybe find London’s brother so we can get answers from him before he dies. She released her hand from the window, shaking her head, as if to say, “What the hell.” I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you.
She walked quickly into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. What was going on in her world that she’d even consider contacting them about something like that? The last time she checked, she wasn’t completely crazy.
And you’re not now.
She froze. Detective Sutherland?
Yes. When you contacted me, you opened a pathway between us that makes it easier for me to contact you. And how did you manage to contact me, by the way?
I remembered you touched me to make the energy around the doors and windows tuned to my energy or something like that. And I wondered if I could contact you by touching the same energy tuned to you.
Smart, he said in admiration. You go to the top of the class.
Why the hell would that happen? she asked in a mocking voice. I failed in every other aspect of life.
No. His voice was hard. That you have not. What you have done is survive. Sometimes in life that’s all any of us can do.
She leaned on the counter and stared out the window. That’s a terrible way to view life. Is that the only thing I have to look forward to?
I didn’t say that. You only have a little idea of what’s available on the other side of life. I must admit there isn’t a psychic police force, but that would be a hell of a decent idea. I must run that past Stefan.
And this time there was much less humor from him. If we can do all this shit, why the hell can’t we talk to the dead at will? It would be so much easier to reach out, tap them on the shoulder and ask, Hey, who did this to you?
He chuckled again. You realize some people can talk to the dead, right?
She froze. People can talk to the dead?
Within reason. Yes. But, of course, like everything else, it isn’t cut and dry.
She spun around, rubbing her forehead. So not all dead people are in the same place? She winced as she said that. Just listen to me. I’m sounding like a crazy person again.
He hesitated.
She waited, wondering what was bothering him.
My wife, Alex, she’s been known to speak with the dead.
Fern froze. Isn’t that like your sister-in-law’s ability? Kali? How does your wife find the dead to talk with them?
A startled silence came from the other side. I don’t have a brother, so I’m not sure who you’re talking about. Although I do know Kali. She’s a search and rescue specialist. My wife has in the past seen and spoken with dead people, but her affinity is toward children. And it’s not something she can control. She doesn’t call to them, they call to her.
Oh, my God, that must be terrible.
It is terrible. His voice was low, thoughtful. Who do you think is my brother?
She frowned. Grant Sutherland, the FBI guy. You both have similar features. I assumed you were brothers. Maybe you’re cousins instead?
We aren’t related. At least as far as I know. But this time Drew’s voice was hesitant, less positive.
She could feel his thoughts turning, like on a big wheel. Sorry. I just assumed the relation, when I heard you were both involved with Stefan and both had the same last name, and I imagined a family resemblance. She shook her head. But none of that has anything to do with finding the killer of the people who are involved in my case.
No. My wife is extremely talented, and she does have the ability to help spirits cross over. She often works with Stefan to do just that. Speaking of which, Stefan could possibly find out for you as well.
I got the impression Stefan is very busy.
He is, indeed, Detective Sutherland said. It’s more than that. Thousands of people die every day. They can’t all communicate. And even of those that can people like Alex or Stefan can’t talk to them. It’s a small percentage of dead people that they can talk to. Rarely are they recent deaths.
Right. And tracking my intruder, that’s not so easy either, I presume.
His laughter was back. And yet look at what you’ve done already.
And just like that, he was gone. She reached out mentally for him, but the connection wasn’t there. She looked around her kitchen. “So he can access me whenever he wants, but I can’t access him whenever I want to? How fair is that?”
“If you don’t like it, fix it.”
Stefan’s voice drifted through the kitchen. Not through her mind but through the kitchen. She walked into the center of the room, looking. “How is it you can do that?”
“The same way you can do it. The same way you can follow the killer’s energy. The same way you can track the poisons. You must lock on to what you’re hearing, what you’re seeing and what you’re smelling. Forget about the physical limitations of the body you are in and just follow it.”
“It’s not that easy,” she cried out in frustration. “Not all of us can do what you do.”
After her outburst, there was dead silence. She raised her hands in frustration. “I’m sorry.”
Then a quiet chuckle came.
She glared at the empty space in her kitchen. “You guys are making me crazy.”
“What guys?”
“I just talked to Detective Sutherland,” she muttered. “He’ll probably tell you anyway, but I asked him if there was some kind of a police force on the psychic side of life.” She waited for Stefan’s laughter. When there wasn’t any, she said, “Well, he laughed at me.”
“I doubt he laughed at you,” Stefan said calmly. “I’m sure he was more than startled at the concept, but it’s a good one.”
“Right, like you can interview people to see how they can police criminals from the other side.” She shook her head. “Then I mentioned I thought he and Grant Sutherland were brothers. I think, by the time he got away from me—which he did rather abruptly, by the way—he was a bit peeved.” She was tired, fed up. “I doubt he’ll be talking to me very much after this.”
Once again silence filled the kitchen.
She spun around in a circle. “You know, when you’re in person, it’s easy to read cues from your face or your body language. But, when you aren’t here, how the hell am I supposed to know what the silence means?”
“What did he say about a family relationship between Grant and himself?” Stefan asked.
“He didn’t say a whole lot, just that he didn’t have a brother. Then I thought maybe they were cousins, but he said no.”
The room warmed up several notches.
She frowned. “How is it that I can feel you smiling?”
He chuckled. “And, if you can feel me smiling, you can see what your nose is smelling.”
“That’s confusing,” she admitted. “I never tried to explain any of this stuff before.”
“You need to find something constructive to do to solve this problem. The cops are doing what they can. They’re trying to connect the victims, delving into Pam Akers and the security guard, looking for a motive. They’re all over the eight deaths connected with the conservatory.”
“Nine, if Reggie is dead.”
“When you think of those nine people, is anyone closely connected to you?”
“Reggie. And Ben second.”
“Then I want you to drop to the floor right now, so, when you jump out of your body, you won’t collapse, and I want you to think about Reggie and Ben.”
She froze. “Jump out of my body?”
She heard his sigh.
“Okay, forget about it. Sorry I asked.”
She dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged. “If anybody saw me now, they’d know I’m ready for a loony bin.”
“Some of us have been there,” he admitted. “We won’t let anyone think that about you.”
She snorted. “You couldn’t even save me from the trial, so I highly doubt you could do anything to stop people from thinking I’m crazy.”
“How do you know I didn’t have anything to do with the trial?” he asked, his voice low, quiet.
Her eyes flew open. “Did you?”
“Who do you think told your defense team to set up the smelling test?”
She stared, a smile breaking free. “Really? You barely knew me.”
“There’s a lot I know. First, you need to put that nose of yours to work, see the green in your mind, or see Reggie the last time you saw him. Smell the odor you detected at his house, or from your house, whichever is strongest. Go follow it, and don’t tell me you can’t. When you’re done, call me, and we’ll discuss what you found.”
For the second time that day, another person disconnected from her.
She closed her eyes, thought about the trail she’d seen heading over the fence. Following Stefan’s instructions, she sent out her mental thoughts, looking for the way it had gone. Feeling the pathway, she tracked it to the fence line. Once there, she looked over the fence. She could hear his voice in the background, saying, Don’t question everything. Just let it all go. She needed to do that. So that’s what she did. She accepted something was here. Something to learn was available to her.
Learning had always been easy for her. She didn’t understand why this was so much trouble. Intuitively she realized it was because her mind was analyzing. Before with her studies, she would always ask questions and look for answers. This time the answers had to be felt. The answers were here, but she had to step out of the way of the analytical part of her brain. In her mind, she could then see where the energy went over the fence. But it was so faint, so distant. Yet she should see more. Do more—at least according to Stefan.
She mentally followed the poisonous trail to the base of the fence where the ivy meandered underneath the wood slats to the far side. Zipping to the other side, she could see where the faint trail continued.
Excited, feeling more positive, another bit of the same green showed up. Not fast, not easy, but as she got to the end of that piece, another piece became visible. And she realized it was like the headlights of a car. She only saw so much at one time. She had to trust as she came to the end that more would show up.
When she made it to the far side of the block, a good dozen houses away from her home, it dissipated into something so thin, so faint it was hard to understand where he’d gone. He came to a stop at the edge of the curb. Excited she opened her eyes and smiled.
She called out gaily to the empty room, “Hey, Stefan. I got to the end.”
And what did you find?
“The energy came to a spot alongside the road. I think the person got into a vehicle and drove away.”
Good. How far away did you go to see that?
She thought about the distance she had traveled and said, About a dozen houses.
Much better. What about the canister downstairs? That energy is newer. But the energy contained in the blast should be still here.
She winced. Not really. When I absorbed it, I took everything inside. I think that means I also took in the energy you would like me to track.
There was a startled silence beside her. Very interesting.
Why’s that?
That you can absorb the percussion blast.
It wasn’t very much, she exclaimed. It was just a gas canister.
True. But his tone was pensive. Contemplative.
She had to wonder for a moment what he was considering. I don’t think I can do something like that with a grenade, she said.
No, but it would be interesting if somebody could.
Hey, I’m already happy I got out of the backyard to the end of the trail. Let’s not go too far, too fast, she joked.
Is there any other incident you can track?
I saw poison around the security guard at the conservatory. But it was mostly contained to him. I saw a little bit of a green trace around him, but there were so many people, I didn’t really get enough time to inspect where the green wisp went. Plenty of poison was around the guard though.
Why would somebody do that?
And then came the answer. So I would be under suspicion?
Possibly.
She shook her head. That’s just bizarre. She put that tidbit away. I know that somehow all this fits together, but now it’s looking like random chess pieces.
In this case, when you find the right missing piece, it will all come together.
London’s trying to find his brother. Derek has a lot to answer for.
Can you track him? Stefan asked. You feel strongly enough about it, so you should catch his trail and follow it.
And with that he disappeared. Into the empty room she called out, “Would you stop disappearing like that? It’s really unnerving.”
His chuckles were faint as they disappeared.
She shook her head but then obediently closed her eyes. Into the empty room she called out loud, “Derek, where the hell are you?”
She thought about the poison he had used to try to kill her. The poison he had drunk himself. The poison he’d been taking all this time. Poison was her forte. Yet she didn’t know about all poisons, and lots of combinations she’d never explored.
Yet when singular natural poisons had been used—like on the recent victims—she could usually isolate them. She stretched out her senses, mentally separating one poison from the other. The killer used arsenic where the security guard had been killed. A visitor had been killed with digitalis, mimicking a heart attack. The maintenance man with some kind of cyanide. She didn’t know what poison had been used on Reggie’s partner, Pam. Fern wasn’t sure the FBI had told her that.
But this poison usage in itself was a connection.
She pulled out her phone and called London. When he answered, she said, “There is one connection between the victims.”
“What’s that?”
“I think every one of them was killed with a different poison.”
*
When he ended the call, he looked at Steve and said, “Fern brought up the fact that every one of the victims was killed by a different poison. She’s making a list of anyone she knows with this kind of skill.”
Steve nodded. “Then it’s a specialist.”
“Maybe a hobbyist who has the time and knowledge and understanding of how to use each of these without affecting themselves.”
Grant spoke up from where he sat, studying Derek’s letters. “Did your brother know about poisons?”
London shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“You two used to be close.”
London sighed. “We were, but our parents were killed just before Fern’s trial. It’s partly why everything was such a mess. My brother was falling to pieces. I was trying to hold him together, deal with the loss of both parents and handle all the details of the funerals.”
Grant’s features slightly softened, as if he finally understood how London could’ve made such a mistake.
“Don’t worry. I blame myself,” London said in a harsh tone. “Even though she forgives me, I still must forgive myself.”
“Sometimes life happens. Nothing we can do except pick ourselves up and carry on.”
London nodded, but he knew it wasn’t that easy. “She said she’d write a list of everyone she knows in her professional circle who may have some knowledge of these poisons. It’s likely to be a big list. But if we cross-reference the locations as to where everybody was at the time these murders occurred,” London said, “we should find some answers.”
Grant spoke up again. “What was that about her parents?”
London quickly explained. “She believes they were murdered.”
Grant studied London’s face again.
“Her parents,” London said, “if they were alive, would be at the top of the list. Are we sure they are dead?”
“I read the accident report,” Grant said. “Nothing suggested murder. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t. As to whether they are truly dead …” He shrugged. “We’ll take another look at the case to see.” Everyone frowned and went back to their work, but their minds were spinning. He could almost hear the collective brain pool searching for answers.
His phone rang. While he answered it, London impulsively pulled up her parents’ accident report, found the pathologist’s number, then dialed him. The man was respected in his field, and London had spoken with him several times on various cases. Not wanting to disturb the others in the bull pen, he walked to the end of the hallway. “Dr. Horton, this is London. I’m looking into a closed case from twelve years ago.”
“Nice of you to make it easy.” Dr. Horton snorted. “Why not ask about one of the dozen cases on my desk right now?”
“Sorry about that. This would be a car accident with two prominent botanists burned beyond recognition.”
“Dr. Geller’s parents.”
“You remember?”
“Not too many cases like that. Usually something identifies them. In this case, there was nothing. You have to understand that not much was left. That, in itself, was a warning, but I couldn’t find anything to confirm foul play. According to their credit card statement, they had just fueled up prior to the accident. The gas tank exploded. They also had a lot of paperwork in their vehicle, adding to the fire.”
“Dental records?”
“None we could find—in that they never went to the dentist for us to match. They lived and worked but were very private, secretive.”
After hearing a few more details, London got off the phone, walked back into the conference room and said to Grant, “The bodies were burned beyond recognition. No dental records were available and no positive proof of identification. However, it was their vehicle, and the bodies were the right height and sex.”
Grant nodded his head. “Sometimes it works out that way.” And by the way, no useable forensic evidence on the box Fern kept from her trial.
“Of course not.” London shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder why we bother.”
“Are we considering maybe the parents are not dead?” Steve asked.
London said, “It’s not likely but we should consider the possibility just so we can dismiss it. They could have completely disappeared. We are not sure how caring the relationship was between them and Fern.” He almost choked on that. “It couldn’t have been that easy to have left behind a sixteen-year-old daughter, their house, their work—everything. However, their credit cards and bank accounts were untouched after their deaths.”
“But then nobody ever searched for them afterward.” Grant leaned back. “We’ve seen it happen time and time again where somebody has ‘died’ only to reappear years later.”
“Motive?” Steve asked. “What possible motive could there be to walk away from everything you have?”
“Fear,” London said. He couldn’t share their particular fear of being caught for their mistreatment of their daughter. “Fear for their own lives. Could be any number of motives. They were well-off, although not superwealthy.”
“They were well-respected in their field. I keep returning to having a daughter and a life. If they were to take off because they were afraid for their lives,” Grant said, “why didn’t they’d take their daughter with them?”
“To save her?” Steve asked.
“It’s possible. Maybe they didn’t think she was in danger but could only have a life without them, or she’d be better off without them …” Grant frowned. “Maybe we need to look further into that aspect. Find out more about what her parents’ and the family situation was like. Then check to see if they’ve surfaced anywhere.”
London winced. That was not a good idea.
“We’re making the assumption they would’ve done this themselves,” Steve said. “Any chance somebody kidnapped them? Made it look like they died but took them away to some secret lab underground?” He gave a half chuckle. “I know it sounds pretty stupid, but again it’s not like we haven’t seen things like that in our world.”
“I’ll talk to her about the family scenario,” London said. “See if there is any basis for this line of questioning.”
Grant picked up a notepad and jotted down a few things. “I’ll check if their names or IDs have resurfaced.”
Steve shook his head. “I still think it’s a stupid idea but whatever.”
“Sounds good to me.” London sat back down. He sent Fern a quick text.
How about I pick up some Chinese and bring it for dinner?
The response came right away.
Only if you bring a bottle of red wine with it.
He chuckled.
Done.